Dwindling Down to Nothing
by QueenWaffleWriter
Summary: The Avengers have always been the one power everyone could always promise would save their planet and protect their people. Except for Nicole Wicks. After discovering her own power, she learns that destruction comes with it. Now despising the one team of people that could help her, she seeks to isolate her powers and herself. Avengers aren't giving her a choice. (Abandoned.)
1. An Introduction of a Sort

They always said I had a mind if my own.

The day I was born, the cursed day I was named Nicole Iris Wicks, and cried in my mother's arms, a nasty storm raged outside. The winds were powerful, nearly wiping out civilians on the sidewalks. Cars swerved against the gusts, tires screeching. The tornado-like air currents swatted droplets into the windowpanes of houses and slapped them onto the roof of the hospital. The rain had already been pouring, which didn't help the condition of the unpredictable winds.

My mother loved to tell that story.

I remember my first loss. A goldfish, I'd been so proud of. I had named it Ironfish, in inspiration of the news-famous Ironman. Unfortunately, I learned the 'irony' of such a name, when the fishbowl had crashed into the tile floor after bumping into it. The glass had collided to the floor, water spilling, fish flying through the room like the legendary Ironman. A child's shrill scream cutting through the room, the windows shattering as a gust of harsh wind broke through the room and swept me off my feet.

The fish did not survive.

The _Avengers_ were growing as I did. By the time I was in middle school, so many conflicts had already occured between them. Captain America was always an idol. His long story of how he fought to protect his nation, and ended up frozen in ice for nearly one seventy to come back, and find the world a different place, especially with the internet. I couldn't imagine. I had a massive respect for that man. He did something I would never be brave enough to do.

I learned at my own pace, that I was not normal.

This was discovered in the hot classroom of eigth grade science. Kids were doing experiments with candles and different types of wood, but I wasn't really interested. The room smelled of smoke and sweaty children. I had walked up to the window, opening it. By this time, I knew my actions had something to do with the wind, I just didn't know how to utilize such. I understood that whenever I was angry, or scared, or sad, that gusts of wind would erupt from nowhere, but my plan was not to cry in an eighth grade science class.

So I tested my ideas, as anyone would do in a science room. I tried using my hands, as discretely as possible, but it still managed to gain some weird looks. It hadn't worked anyway. I tried holding my breath, staring, leveling my breathing; nothing.

But the one test that did work. I imagined. Not the bullcrap of 'imagining the wind flowing through the room' stuff you hear from clichè stories, but when I focused on heating my body, on pushing the large air current into the window, on the invisible force twisting through the branches of the trees, as if I were one with it. A heavy wind had pushed through classroom, leaving a fresh smell of spring in it's wake, blowing out the candles in the process.

After that success, I practiced. I practiced shaking apples from trees in the solitude of my backyard. I played with people's hair on the playground, which was quite enjoyable. I confused birds midflight. Everything was a game back then.

And then, the game finally became a reality.

I was a highschooler, my parents with me. I'd been on my phone, barely acknowledging their presense. They had dragged me away from my room, imprisoning my device, and then we were walking on the sidewalk. I had no knowledge of where we were even going. I had no care to know.

The mugger had jumped out from nowhere. They'd waved the gun in my mother's face, demanding money and wallets. I was not frozen; this is what I had building up such a power for, afterall. I had launched at the man with the gun, and he had foolishly stumbled. A breeze had picked up around us, as I punched him and he got a grip on his gun. He'd elbowed me off, tripping backward, his finger pulling the trigger. He'd shot my mom.

I had screamed in horror and anger, spitting in a rage I'd never experienced before, and I was merciless. My father had not watched, he was too busy clutching to my mother's cold, limp body. But he would have been dissapointed.

I was a fiery mess. The breeze had now broke into a wind almost equivalent to that of a tornado. Innocent people were swept off their feet throughout the city. I punched and punched and kicked the mugger, weeping in my own emotional defeat. "No!" I had screamed to the heavens, over and over.

An old building gave a thundering crash, catapulting to the ground as the wind slammed into it. Jarring metal had knocked me to my side, and it was all I could do to use my powet to keep it from crushing me. I sobbed, realizing my father was now dead because of me. Because I did not have control of my own emotions and I couldn't defeat a petty mugger. I was pathetic.

This, truly, is where my journey began.

I'm now eighteen, although I had to survive through-out highschool with foster parents and adoptive services as a depressed teenager that had to live with the fact that they had killed their parents. I was a wreck. It was a dark turn in my life. I'd decided I'd never express an emotion again. Live as an empty soul, so I could never hurt anyone. I already had to live knowing that someone suffered because of my own weak emotions and feeling. This had only made me feel empty, and admittedly I'd been addicted to self-harming for several years before throwing that path away and letting myself heal.

I felt as though I had sinned everytime I couldn't control my emotions. A little simmer of happiness, or a glimmer of hope. The times where you feel sad... you can't control it. Although by now, I was pretty much dead to my own emotions.

I had lived years without a smile on my face. I'd slapped myself countless times whenever shameful feeling ran through my thoughts.

I'd trained myself.

The Avengers had now assembled, Ultron destroying several cities. I shook my head. Why had I looked up to them? All they caused was destruction, destruction, destruction. That was why I avoided them like the plague. Shamefully, I feared them. I feared hurting innocent people at my own cause, as I had done when I was too blind to see what harm I was causing. That was why I ran from the Avengers.

What I didn't realize, was that the Avengers were already searching for me.


	2. Chapter 1

I was at a local food truck, enjoying a bacon cheeseburger and watermelon icey on a hot August day. The sun cast down, creating dark shadows from the tall oaks of the park and people around. One family sat on the grass, enjoying a picnic to which they had prepared tasty looking tuna sandwiches with melted cheese and crispy bread. It looked pleasant, but I really couldn't imagine how terrible the ants would be, so I kept to the lonely picnic table with a built-in umbrella.

Around me sat chattering and giggling teens that looked about my age, nose deep in their phones. Old couples drank wine together, young couples threw bread chunks to the dauntless pigeons, who called for more.

It was sad, really, how fast my life had flipped around. In my quest to keep a stable and neutral emotions, jobs didn't want me. They didn't understand. How could they? They hadn't shown emotion and had their entire family killed. Some called me a liar. Attention seeker. Some, right off the bat called me a psychopath. Of course, I never told them the full story. What more could I have said?

Unfortunately, this brought me to a life of small-town crime. I constantly hated myself for it. I made me no better than those petty muggers that had threatened my family's life. I was broke, almost always starving. I had lost some weight through this, maybe gained a little more muscle mass. It wasn't the healthiest workout, but it would do.

I'd steal the purses of rich women, as they most likely had twenty of the same purse. Shoplifting was rather handy, but I would only steal items I needed. Hygiene-related things, maybe a bottle of water on a hot day. One lucky time I'd managed to somehow sneak a loaf of bread. I never let my emotions take over me during these feats. I just reminded myself that it was a trade of wealth for the ones who need it.

They called me the Wind Breaker. For a lot of reasons, really. During these crimes I tended to wear my windbreaker jacket, the wind seemed to unnaturally pause when I was around, and sometimes I'd just break in through windows.. I found it to be a nickname of dumb luck.

The bacon cheeseburger made my mouth water as I held it. It had been a treat for myself- to a successful day of pickpocketing.

Then, I noticed a rather strange sight. A man kept glancing at me from the left end of the seating area. Suspicion caught a grip on my heart.

I set my burger down, a controlled anger ran through me at such a waste of food. A little breeze tickled my ear. I had barely taken a bite of it. I stood, watching his head twitch and muscles tense at my new movement. He was definitely watching me.

I calmly put my hands in my pockets, strolling off, creating a reality as if I had never noticed him. Although through the back of my eyes I watched the stalker. He stood, and if I didn't know better, he looked casual. His identity was still unknown to me; I couldn't look directly at him without giving away that I knew of his presence. His face was hidden, but by further heart-sinking estimation and detective skills, I realized that it was Steve Rogers. They had sent Captain America after me? I was so dead. So so so dead.

I lifted the hood of my jacket, trying to blend into the park. But how do you blend into a park? Disguise as a tree? I ditched the idea of hiding, and decided to book it out of there. I knew I'd be followed, but at least the fight wouldn't be in front of innocent pedestrians. I just had pray I could escape.

I settled on a fast walk, forcing my stalker to seem a bit abnormal amongst the crowd. I took notice that he didn't seem to have his shield, which was promising, but I also didn't know if he had backup yet. I swerved through a mass of people, a slight panic causing the wind to rise. I suppressed it, all the while knowing that the undercover super human was now following me. I made my way around a hotdog stand sitting at the edge of the park, leaving the patriotic hero to follow and swerve through the small crowd while I set off to get away from most of the population, including, hopefully, him.

It didn't really hold him back, and he followed about a block behind until I was in the alleyway, where we could both run. I, getting there first, sprinted down and randomly changed paths. I thought I was winning.

And then, for a frightening moment, Captain America's shield bounced off a wall, narrowly missing my head. Captain didn't just miss. He was trying to corner me. Frighten me. They wanted me alive and undamaged. Interrogate me. Do tests on my abilities, probably.

And where did his shield come from? His pants?

I couldn't just keep running. I turned, throwing myself at him, and thankfully the life of thieving and escaping cops had made me agile. He blocked almost all of my blows, with his shield, his hands, and his forearm. He threw a punch, I would narrowly dodge it. It was like he was playing easy on me.

Oh.

Oh.

The realization hit me hard enough to send a massive amount of adrenaline and force into a sucker punch that landed on his defined cheek. In his short delay, I took my advantages. I kicked at his legs, and punched him in the stomach. I kicked the man while he was down. I tried on more aim to his face, but cried out when he ducked into his knees, grabbing my legs and pulling them out from under me. I rolled ungracefully, earning scrapes on my arms.

"So, you fight dirty." He muttered, standing up.

My power was needed, regrettably. Only if it was controlled. I wasn't going to overuse it. I just couldn't lose this fight.

But maybe it's best. A little, crawling voice whispered in the back of my brain. Maybe they can help you. My distraction was a mistake. He pinned me, panting a bit, "Just-"

A gust of wind hit him in the chest, pushing me out of his grip, and I turned to run, but a shield knocked the literal wind out of me and I fell to the sidewalk. I stiffly pulled myself up after the blow, pain radiating in my lower back.

"I don't want to hurt you." He stood about five meters away.

I stood, clutching his shield to my chest.

A small bruise was forming on his face. "You're strong. Agile." He complimented. "You're afraid." He took another tentative step, as if approaching a spooked horse. "It's alright. You've been alone for a very long time." His cobalt blue eyes searched mine, seeking peace.

I matched his creeping steps, backing farther away. I knew he was stalling. He did have backup. Probably how he got his shield. He was just trying to talk to me himself. I was insulted. It was too clear what was going to happen, and it hurt that he thought I couldn't discover it myself.

Captain took no more steps, fortunately. "Please. Just come willingly. It'll be so much easier." Figures started to appear. Black Widow, Iron Man, and Hawkeye were all now staring from the other end of the alley. THey were head to toe in their signature armor. They were ready for a fight.

I silently scoffed. Of course. It was all a sick joke and trap to get her contained. I gripped his shield, "No can do, Cap." If you listened closely, my voice slightly quivered.

Controlled emotions wouldn't be enough this time. I let out a snarl, a harsh wind blasting through the alleyway. I let that anger and fear grow, focusing it on a building. I was going to make it happen again, and I was never going to forgive myself. There was a rumble in the earth, and the building yawned at the pressure now tilting into the alleyway. I glared at it, focusing a rage incomparable to anything I'd experienced. A hate that had always been aimed towards myself, daily The building toppled, slamming into the four heros. It slammed into me also, but I used the shield to reflect some of the concrete flying at my face.

I swallowed my emotions once again, like chaining a lion in a cage. The lion would break out one day, but I could keep rebuilding cages. Over and over. But I knew I was killing the lion. The lion couldn't survive in a cage.

I flipped my hood up, sprinting away into the buzzing city. Time for a new identity.

Meanwhile...

Steve coughed shortly underneath the rubble, and slowly did the heaviest bench press he had arguably ever done, the brick and concrete rolling off his stomach. He'd gotten the worst of it, thankfully, as his other friends were not super soldiers who could shrug off a building falling on them.

Even with his mask on, Tony didn't seem amused. His suit was a bit banged up and dusty, but he would live. Natasha was gripping her bleeding shoulder as she stood, and Clint was had a bitter frown painting his face, rocks clinging to his clothing.

Captain America swallowed thickly, "She got away." He was somewhat remorseful, relieved, and frustrated. Although he wasn't sure why.

Tony's chipped up mask lifted, showing his disapproving scowl. "Yeah, I think we got that much. How could you possibly let her take your shield?" His words dripped in rage.

"She was feeling.. threatened."

"That girl is dangerous." Tony spat, walking up to the blond soldier.

"That girl is afraid." Natasha butted in. She was crossing her arms, shaking her head at the bickering boys. "Do you know what she's been through? You saw the video, right?"

Tony scoffed, "That's life. I've had-"

Clint was now the one to interrupt the shallow comment, "For a so-called genius, are you really that dense, Tony? She was a teenager. Thrown around in foster homes. She raised herself to hide her emotions. Never smile, never cry, never laugh. As a kid. Kids aren't supposed to worry about that stuff." He picked at a rock that was wedged in his collar. "She's brought herself up to believe she killed her own parents because she was weak and dangerous. You didn't experience that, Tony. You had someone to blame."

Steve uncomfortably listened.

Tony blinked, "And how do you know so much about her?"

"Is it really that hard to understand what happened? The teenage brain is always blaming themselves. Always taking all the credit. She's only 18, man, give her a break." Clint knew she had issues, but he knew what kids were like. He had all the experience he needed to know the basic of what was going on in her head.

Tony was silent, while Natasha nodded in agreement with Clint.

"She'll come around eventually. For now, we might just have to deal with her antics." Steve said softly.

"Well, excuse me for not wanting to be crushed by falling buildings," Tony muttered, examining the wires now poking out of his metal armor.

Natasha bit out, dusting her clothes of, "I survived, and I wasn't wearing armor. Toughen up a bit, Tony."

The four hero's settled to leaning against the rubble. "Besides, she's a teenager, what more could she do?"


	3. Chapter 2

Making it to my apartment was a relief. I was panting, muttering things to myself as I replayed the events, "I escaped the Avengers." With shaky hands, I threw my backpack off my shoulder and near my bedside. Carefully, I slipped the large object awkwardly out from the back of my jacket. I held the object in my hands, observing it carefully, "And I stole Captain America's shield." Disbelieving laughter shuddered through my body. How had I outsmarted the Avengers? Nobody just does that. I looked down at my hands and clenched them. This power shouldn't belong to me. I had done it again. I did the one thing I swore I would never do, and oath upon my parents grave. I was a disgrace.

Suddenly this room felt cramped. I opened the window, quickly shutting it when I felt a breeze of my panic, frustration, confusion, and pain. Ever since I had expressed emotion all I could do was continue. It was confusing and frightening. I was going to have to be wary of everything now. Stay inside, wear disguises.

My life was now a hide and seek game.

Meanwhile...

Nick Fury was not delighted by the news. He was pacing, "Not only did your careless actions cause us to lose visual of the target, but now she's stolen your shield, too!"

Steve stood across the room from Nick, the team silently beside him. Steve frowned, "She's not a target…"

"No matter what she is, you lost her."

Steve lowered his eyes.

Nick sighed. "We've been looking into this for months now, Rogers. Our plans were very specific." Nick's gaze held one of frustration and disappointment.

"I couldn't just.. snatch her. I'm not like that." Steve held a calculated gaze with Fury's. "She's barely an adult."

Nick nodded grimly. "Yes, we know. But now all are efforts are thrown to waste. We'll have to inspect and do more deep searching. I do believe you all remember how difficult it was to find her to begin with."

Tony had stayed silent for the entire time, but when he opened his mouth, everyone paused. "Captain's right." Everyone was too stunned to butt in. "We'll need to be more gentle around her." When everyone gave him incredulous stares, he scoffed, "Oh, come on. If it had been Peter, this would be an entirely different situation."

Nobody moved.

After a time of deep thinking, Clint smiled faintly, "Can't believe I'm saying this, but Tony's right. You with me, Romanoff?" His hint of a smile twitching upward as she have him a solemn nod. Clint gave a chuckle to his feet, then glanced up at Nick. "There you go, Fury."

Nick's serious gaze fell upon the four Avengers. "Alright then, what's the plan?"

Meanwhile...

I combed my hands through my hair, breathing sharply. My nerves were going haywire, feeling jittery and claustrophobic. I was curled up, sitting on my bed, penting myself up in the small makeshift house. I wanted to go outside; the apartment felt crushing.

I stumbled upward, glancing out the window. It was raining now. Thunder zapped through the dark clouds and rain licked the windows. I didn't have control of the weather, really, just the winds. It was a bit peculiar, though. How had it gone from sunny to thunderstorm so quickly?

I threw a raincoat over my shoulders, deciding I'd stick to the roof. I strode up the stairs, and when I reached my destination, there was an immediate smell of rain and the calmness. I really did love thunderstorms. The blissful pitter-pattering of rain filled my ears. Subconsciously, I let a grin etch on my face as I watched car tires slosh in the mud and windshield wipers throw sprays on water. Droplets drizzled onto tree leaves, drawing wet lines and patterns. The dark sky illuminated in flashes of light and crackling of thunder.

I shrieked when a hand touched my shoulder, and I scrambled to stand, nearly falling off the building as a new blast of wind hit me. Steady, strong hands met my shoulders, "I did not mean to startle you." A deep rumble came from the man in front of me. His chest was thick with armor, metal lacing his red cape. He had long, blond hair that blew in the heavy wind. His deep blue eyes met mine. This was Thor, god of thunder.

I stumbled out of his grip and swatted his hands away. Another Avenger.

"My friends have told me you are.. troubled." His face contained genuine concern. Noticing your behavior, he added, "I am not here to collect you, as you might fear. I am only a man of message."

Something about the way his honest eyes sparkled and his calm features caused me to allow vulnerability in my posture. If he had wanted to snatch me, wouldn't he have done so? He had every advantage. I scuffed my feet against the stone floor, "And why should I believe you?"

Thor looked upon me sadly, "You do not have to. But know I am not my brother; I speak the truth when I tell you I shall not touch you unless you consent to such. I will only listen to what you tell me. But do know that I do not judge." Thor slowly sat down beside me, careful to give me room. He rested his hammer on his thigh.

For a minute, I sat there, stunned and bewildered as to what I should do. "I don't need a therapist." I muttered, scooting away from the Thundergod. The awkward silence was intense, and that's when I blurted, "I haven't cried since my parents died." My eyes widened a bit, as if I had done something unspeakable.

His blue eyes encouraged me sadly. Hesitantly, I added, "I'm always scared that if I do, people will get hurt. That kids will lose their parents to my careless actions. That I'll be seen as a monster in someone else's eyes."

Thor watched the clouds roll, "That is a fair view." He understood. "I remember when I was banished to Midgard. Careless. Reckless. Loki had, again, attempted my execution.. His greed and envy had bested him and he had killed innocent Midgardians without slight hesitation." He paused as a flicker of lightning struck. "I do not see my brother as a monster, but he has made many terrible mistakes." He turned to me. The wind was deadly calm.

Nervously, I watched the sky. "Did you ever forgive Loki?"

Thor let out a hefty laugh, "More than I should have." He spun his hammer, "But he is still my brother." He paused. "He was driven by his emotions blindly. Destruction was caused. But I do believe you are no god of mischief." He gave me an believing smile, "You are suffering. As the saying goes, misery loves guests."

I chuckled, but the motivating words had struck somewhere in my gut, a metaphorical flower blossoming in warmth. "Misery loves company." I played with the sleeve of my raincoat, enjoying the cool rain on my hands. "But emotion still causes destruction."

"It does." Thor nodded thoughtfully. "But it's up for you to choose if it goes to a good cause, or to waste. Nobody can control their emotions, young one, not even me." He gestured to the rolling clouds.

"Are you…" I pondered. "Are you hurting too? I mean.. is that why the storm-"

"Perhaps I'm not much different from you."

I froze, considering his meaningful answer. A light, tickling breeze met my face as I thought about his response seriously. Maybe there really was another way to cope.

We sat in silence for a long time. I watched the headlights of cars glitter against the dark rain, the people rush to taxis. It was peaceful, and Thor was respectful of it. As if on cue, Thor broke the lovely silence. "I must be off, fair maiden. You have earned my respects. I do hope to see you again." He smiled.

"Goodbye." I smiled warmly. "Do visit sometime."

"I will." He promised. He backed away, raising his hammer. With a jolting strike of lightning, he's gone.

I stood, also, a stabbing, heartbreaking pain in my chest; knowing that when Thor did ever visit again, I would not be there.


	4. Chapter 3

With some quick tinkering and a few frustrating Avenger meetings, they'd finally sprouted a half-plan to get an idea of what was going on in the head of the mysterious, dangerous girl. The gentler approach was decided, and Tony rushed to append a mouthpiece onto Thor for the arrangement to work. Of course, a man in brilliant red and gold armor was not a man for stealth. However, they did know a guy. To get the compliance of the god of mischief was an exertion itself. Loki had never been one for teamwork and cooperation. After diligent work of searching, they sent the manipulative Black Widow to endeavor compromisation.

From Loki's perspective, Natasha had shown up out of the blue. He stood and spun, blade in hand, elbow poised for action. He didn't falter when he met the gaze of his sudden guest. "Ah, you again. Have I told how few people can sneak up on me?"

"Loki." No feeling stuck to the word, just it's sharpness.

"Of course. Is there something you require?" He invited snidely, glaring down at the assassin. His exasperation was connected with the interference of his current read.

Natasha leaned indifferently against a library rack. "I didn't know you were into reading." She had discovered him nestled into a seat perusing, shockingly, _The Fault in Our Stars_. If she didn't know better, he'd held a pitiful appearance before she had barged in.

"The only entertainment Midgard appears to give." Loki sat back down, albeit tense and prepared for a battle. He clapped the book shut, setting it on a table beside him delicately with stiff fingers, aggravated.

Her cutting gaze didn't miss his conflicted emotions; she let out a humorless breath, amused. "I see. Did you get to the part where he-"

" _What_ are you here for. Tormenting me will do nothing." Loki cut her off, a gleam of outrage obfuscating his eyes as he ascended from his seat. A trace of blue appeared on his neck and his eyes appeared more bloodshot.

"I've come to deal." Natasha grinned keenly, whipping out a gadget that was unfamiliar to Loki's eyes, which examined the tech intently. Stark's design.

He gritted his teeth. "It better be worth my time."

Natasha raised a curious brow, "Listen. This device will give us each benefits. All we need is for you to discretely place it onto Thor." She extended an arm to hand it to Loki.

Loki ignored her offer for a moment. "How amusing. Is my brother in trouble? How intriguing." He laughed, "I'm the God of Trickery. How do you know I wouldn't utilize it for my own particular advantages?"  
She hurled it in the air, his nimble bony fingers snatching the small device. "Because we can turn it on."

Loki regarded curiously from the assassin to the recording device. "And what do I get?"

Natasha leaned forward, tilting her head. "A second chance."

 _Later..._

Tony's face twitched in impatience, "Friday, open the Eavesdropper407 file."

Friday's obeyed and murmured in acknowledgment.

The whole gang was there, ready to hear what plan Tony and Natasha had been concocting. Only a few people were aware of the plan. Including Loki, who was there, too, although safety precautions were taken. His actions weren't overlooked, with him almost killing a whole populace and everything, but they could tolerate his presence. Perhaps even trust would be made.. no, who were they kidding? God of Lies? Trust? It was an oxymoron.

An audio file popped up on the screen, and Tony eagerly pressed play. The beginning was tiring. Thor conversing with his companions back in Asgard, being obnoxiously like a god and king. "Friday, skip." Finally, there was a crackle of thunder, and the yelp of a girl, unimportant chatter, and then…

 _I haven't cried since my parents died._

It was so sudden and blunt that Steve felt bile rise in his throat. He blinked in horrification. She was barely an adult. He reached over Tony and pressed pause, "This isn't right. We shouldn't do this. This is an intrusion of her privacy-"

"Gracious, there you go with all your freedom morals. Steve, would you rather we interrogate her? This is the easiest and least painful approach." Tony blurted. He never really got along with Mr. Red-White-and-Blue.

"But she didn't agree to this. She believed she was talking in solitude with Thor. She didn't know it was a _lie_."

Loki snickered.

Tony tugged at his hair in frustration, "Thor didn't lie to her! He doesn't even know. We just decided to drop in."

Steve's level face and calm stance met Tony's, "Like criminals."

Natasha shook her head, pushing past the two fighting heroes. "Get a room." She pressed play, turning the volume up. The girl's voice filled the room.

 _I'm always scared that if I do, people will get hurt. That kids will lose their parents to my careless actions. That I'll be seen as a monster in someone else's eyes.  
_

Tony's face fell.

Steve pushed Natasha away, tapping the exit button on the tab. "This," He pointed to the screen, "Is an invasion of privacy. If you want answers, ask her. Don't deceive her."

Clint tapped his feet again the floor in thought. "Ugh. Stevie's always right. This is wrong. But you are kinda getting a little caught up in the 'freedom business'. It's only a conversation."

"She's not some mastermind criminal we need to track. She's a girl afraid of her own abilities." Steve didn't mean for his voice to contain the stern factor in it.

"Mastermind, maybe not." Tom's face was dark. " _Criminal_ , however... Friday, play the clip through."

A video file blinked up on the screen, starting upon Tony's command. A pixelly corner store, and a hazy figure stuffing bread and some water in their knapsack. Steve was silent as she watched her pay for a few energy bars and get away with the stolen mass hidden on her back. The clip ended when the door of the gas station slammed shut.

Steve only breathed for a moment, and then his voice came out as soft and sad. "She's hungry."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "She's a thief. She steals. We also have more clips where this came from."

"But consider it. What greedy person steals _bread_ and _water_? Not someone searching for cash." Steve said sullenly, feeling his heart sink, realizing Nicole's circumstance was worse than she even let on.

Tony frowned, "That was _not_ my point. She isn't some charity case that needs to be coddled. She's an adult that is dealing with her financial problems the wrong way."

Natasha couldn't bear it any longer. She stood, pointing a finger at Tony like a parent lecturing their child. She snapped, "What is it with you, Tony?" Her red hair whipped behind her as she glared at the startled man before her.

"I- but you were the one that pressed play to the vide-"

"No, Tony. I am talking about you. You were the one that brought up that we should treat her like we would Peter. ' _So if Peter was in her place and we didn't know him, we wouldn't be careful_ '?" She mimicked, her blue eyes flashed as she interrogated him. "Half of you thinks we should be gentle about it, and half of you wants to take her down. _Make up your mind_ before you go around demanding things without explanation."

Tony opened his mouth, yet words didn't turn out. Where were his quips when he needed them?

"What I think this is," Clint spoke behind Natasha's figure, "Is that it's his ego speaking here. Your arguments are finally biting you back. You only want to be right." He nodded his head to Steve, who was crossing his arms expectantly.

Tony lifted his hands to find a face, his palm rubbing his goatee as he wiped at his brow. "I'm sorry." He was not going to cry before his superhuman associates. Nope nope _nope_. "We just need to get inside her head a little bit to know what's going on. It was the most painless way I could think of. We need to know her intentions."

Steve gave a grunt, "Listen, if we want answers, then, we're going to have to visit her ourselves."


	5. Chapter 4

At first, it was a low tap of the knuckles by Captain that was light, calm, and patient. Tony could almost _hear_ the responsibility; it sickened him. Tony then gave a snappy rap that sounded tight and anxious, earning a ' _really_?' look from Steve. However, there was nobody to listen to it. It fell deaf to the empty apartment, echoing.

Tony clicked his tongue. "Maybe she's sleeping."

"It's two toward the afternoon."

"Some people like to sleep in late."

"You have no room to talk, Stark." Steve remarked as he assessed the bolted door handle. "Your sleeping habits _cannot_ be healthy."

"Oh, don't you dare give me a health lecture. Peter already tells me enough about the PSA lectures you made for his school."

Steve wrinkled his nose slightly, wincing at the reminder of how old the boy was. Somebody who was still listening to public service announcements at their school should not be included with Avenger matters. Not yet. Although Steve couldn't complain, as he'd broken a couple of age-rules himself when he initially joined the army.

 _Flashback_ …

Tony Stark never got a break. His aggravation had no restrictions, and neither did his coffee. All he did was work, work, work, and fight. His sleep was spoiled with nightmares and insomnia. His jokes and quips were shaded with irritance and disdain. His life was a war zone, regardless of whether in battle or not. In his dark cave of loneliness, nervousness, and frustration, there were just a couple of breaks and gaps that leaked light into his reality. Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, and Peter.

Something light started in his heart when he saw the teen in the lab. The spider vigilante looked up from his little experiment enthusiastically.

Somehow, Tony was his role-model.

Tony gave him a little grin, "Hey, kiddo."

Steve, who had just been discussing the topic of The Windbreaker with the known billionaire, did a double-take from the doorway, wary and uncertain. Tony had never been a one for kids. He repeated very regularly that he could never bring children into his life. Truth be told, he was staggeringly stubborn on that topic, insisting that he could never be a father. This was a teenager; either Tony has had a mystery child for all too long, or something fishy was going on. Tony would never randomly befriend some kid.. right?

"Mr. Stark!"

Tony's face and posture brightened, eyeing the kid fondly. He turned to the super soldier, "Cap, this is my intern, Peter."

Steve blinked, strolling further into the lab, closely watching the kid. Tony _had_ no interns. The boy's attention snapped up so quickly Steve thought he might break his neck. "Holy! You're- you're Captain America! I- I- Imma' big fan." The child's puppy eyes practically glowed in awe.

"Please, call me Steve." He gave a warm smile toward Peter, finding his adoration somewhat amusing. He could see why Tony let him stick around.

A blend of anxiety and energy slipped onto Peter's face, "I know that. I mean, I've met you. Kinda. Well, you've met me.. but you don't know me-"

Tony's head perked up, and he interfered too quickly, "How about you let Capsicle and I here have the lab right now?" He hinted.

Peter nodded in embarrassment, "Yeah! Yeah. Definitely, definitely." He rushed out of the room, dropping his experiment, pink featuring his cheeks. Peter had not meant for that to slip out.

Immediately the two of them stiffened, the atmosphere changing as Peter ran out. Tension filled the air. Steve stared at Peter's abandoned experiment, a white gelatin-like fluid sat in a large beaker. Little notes scattered on the table, and he barely picked up the word _web-fluid_. "Intern?"

Tony sighed, plopping himself into an awkward plastic seat; he reminded himself to buy more comfortable ones later. "Too obvious?"

Steve nodded, "A little." He flipped through the kid's scribbly notes. "Spider-man, eh? How old is that kid, Tony?" His eyebrows wrinkled together, reality hitting him drearily. Tony had brought a child into Accord matters.

Tony gave a knowing expression, raising his hands up in surrender, "Look, the kid has a life ahead of him. I made a mistake; I was desperate for backup. Now, he's my responsibility. It's... complicated. I can't just abandon him and take away his high-tech spandex. Homecoming taught me that."

"Homecoming?!" Steve paled, turning ash grey. He was frozen. "He can't even drive, can he?"

Tony huffed, "He's never going to quit, regardless of whether I get out of his spidey-hair. All I can do now is keep him as best protected I can. I already failed him once."

Steve's tongue solidified, whatever he was going to say caught in his throat. "Tony… "

Tony had this mix of fury and self-loathing blended on his face, leaving an expression of pure anguish, " _I have to protect him better than I did Rhodey_."

 _Present_ …

Steve raised his elbow and hammered it onto the doorknob, which busted open effectively. The hinges squeaked at the sudden impact, and the two were left gazing at the bare apartment. It was like nobody had ever lived there. "She left." He peeked inside, scanning the room.

Tony glowered, "I should start calling you Captain Obvious."

Steve glared, "Only if I get to call you Tony Snark."

Tony just grinned at that, appreciating Cap's sharpness for a moment. Mr. America wasn't usually one to participate in his witty commentary, so it was somewhat engaging when he did. "Ooh, that's new. Good one, Grandma." He gave a smirk and leaned against the building, tilting his head up smugly.

Steve huffed; this was getting them nowhere. "We need to find Nicole." He said simply.

Guess they were back to unimaginative responses and boring conversations. What was this called? Small-talk? Gross. "I told you we should have been tracking her. You're lucky, though, Spangles. My genius brain and I decided to stick a lil' bot on your patriotic frisbee a while back." Tony tapped his temple, smirking.

"You were tracking me?" It wasn't surprising.

"No, Stripes, catch up. I was tracking your shield. Do you know how many times you've lost that thing?"

"Tony, it practically glows in the dark, I doubt you need to track it." Steve deadpanned.

"You have yet to prove me wrong because your shield is, once again, playing hide and seek. You're lucky I'm doing this for you, " Tony said snidely. He began walking, not looking back, but very aware the patriotic soldier was on his tail. "You know, I'd love to continue our beauty-parlor chit-chat, but I really need to find Nicole." Then, a sudden spark of brilliance hit him so hard he could only see white for a second. "Wait." He said it slowly, "You know how she pickpockets?"

Steve's eyebrows furrowed, "Yeah, what about it?"

 _Later…_

The streets were constantly freezing. During the evening, I could see my breath in the light of passing cars. There was no ceasing the chills that wracked my body when snow tickled my nose and bit at my elbows.

It's a couple hours past midnight, and I found myself walking in the part of town where you keep your eyes low and sharp. You watch for the sketchy looking folks- the creeps that stalk and hunt for the vulnerable. The guys with scruffy beards and the women with wild, bloodshot eyes. I've heard stories about this part of town. The side that doesn't see as much of the Avengers' favor.

I never stayed in one place anymore, as a way to offset the watching eyes of proclaimed heroes. I carried a backpack containing the few things I own, including the surprisingly heavy patriotic shield.

I ignored the pinching and digging of the backpack straps on my aching shoulders. My spine felt wound and scrunched from sleeping on park benches and old couches. My hair greasy under my cap, and my sweatshirt reeked of sweat. My stomach protested in hungry pain, begging for food. Sores on my feet scraped against my dirty and scrappy shoes, stinging. God, was I a mess.

My mouth gaped a bit when I saw a man strolling in front of me. His wallet, which sat in his pocket, was bulging. I gulped, envisioning the amount of cash it could bring me. Maybe I could even live regularly for a week.

I steeled myself, preparing. Steadying my shaky hands, I walked past him calmly, grasping his flooding wallet from his unsuspecting pocket. After I was a few steps away, I slipped a hand into the wallet inside my jacket, and when I felt something cold and metallic (and not papery), my stomach clenched. Eyes broadening, I seized it, yanking out an large, red 'Easy' button. Fear gripped my lungs and heart; beating and pounding.

I dropped the wallet like it was scorching hot, and it hit the concrete, pressing and sounding out a noisy, 'That Was Easy'. I made a strangled noise.

"I have a great sense of humor, I know."

Fearfully, I pivoted, linking eyes with the Tony Stark. God, Ironman was tracking me, too? Shakily, I took the wallet from my jacket and dropped it on the ground next to the button, backing up and raising my hands as a truce. "I'm- there's your wallet. I'm sorry. I'll just get out of your way…"

Tony laughed, "Wow! Good joke there. I guess we share the funny bone, ey?" A dangerous smile hung loosely on his face. "But you must admit, I'm much funnier."

I was frozen, a statue on the sidewalk. I couldn't _move_. How had they found me so soon? I had been trying so hard. I ached and smarted from all the effort I went through to avoid them, and yet I _pickpocketed_ one of them. Tears pricked my eyes; God, I was an idiot.

The billionaire gave somewhat of a sympathetic look, "Don't feel too bad about yourself. I rigged the shield." He gestured toward my oddly formed rucksack. "But I do appreciate you keeping it safe for us. He loses the thing very regularly."

I could feel my heart speed up and my breaths shorten. There wasn't enough air. I blinked, staring at him dumbly. "I don't- I don't-" My throat felt swollen, contracting. I stumbled forward, feet feeling numb.

The man before me squinted, "Woah. Do you have anxiety? Relax, kid. You're alright." He reached a hand, "Hey, breathe." His palms met my shoulders and I recoiled back.

I croaked, "I just wanted to be alone." To my horror, I discovered tears falling, and the wind picking up. "Just leave me alone!" I squeezed my eyes shut, and then everything went a little too quick. I ended up slammed up against a wall, battling against his hold, a firm hand over my mouth. I shouted, lashing out, "Get away from me!" My pleas were muffled by his hand.

"Shh!" He hushed hurriedly. "Quiet! Shh, shh, shh!" His whispers were urgent, and his focus was not on me. The panic in his voice was clear. " _Hydra's here._ "


End file.
